"Go, citizens. Prepare yourselves for the final triumph of the Zjhon. Together we shall beat back the Herald Witch, and we will prevail. To Adderhold with you, one and all! The divinity shall arrive at Adderhold by spring, and all are required to attend. In their light shall the rifts in the Greatland be healed and the enemy crushed. Until I see you there, I bid you blessings in the light of Istra, Vestra, and the Zjhon Church."
"What do they expect us to do? Eat stones?" someone in the crowd asked. "How can we leave our fields and homes and expect not to starve?" The crier had no answers for them; instead, he just packed his stage cloth and moved on to the next town. The crowd milled in confusion. No one seemed to know what to do, and some seemed on the verge of panic. The false news of the armies' losses had the most devastating effect. Many wept in mourning for family members they presumed dead.
Catrin, Rolph, and Benjin walked back to the farmstead in oppressive silence. Rolph's shoulders occasionally shook with sobs, and Catrin sensed that he dreaded relaying the news to Collette. She stood in the barnyard when they returned, and she dropped to her knees when she saw Rolph's face; she had no need to hear the words from him. He ran to her, and they clung to each other for support. It was a gut-wrenching sight, especially when one knew the news was false. Catrin had an enormously difficult time holding her tongue, but Benjin's pointed stare urged her to do just that. Rolph helped Collette into the house, and he returned a moment later.
"Mother needs a rest," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "Let's get you settled while I've still the energy to move." They opened the pasture gate, and Curly nearly charged to the oxcart. "Thinks he's going to town. He's well known, and the children always bring him corn. It can make fer a wild ride, but he does no harm," Rolph said, and while Benjin loaded their gear, he pulled Catrin aside. "I've one last gift for you." He led her into the barn and pulled a heavy coat from a hook in the feed stall. "This belonged to one of m'sons, Martik," he said, his lip quivering. "He was studying arch'tecture before the Zjhon came. He used to say he'd one day be the builder of great things. He won't be needin' this jacket anymore, and I want you t'have it. Keep the hood up, and it'll be harder to guess yer age. I hope it helps to ease the troubles of yer journey in some way."
"Will you go to Adderhold?" she asked.
"Not me. Boil the Zjhon fer taking m'boys, and boil the Herald Witch for killing 'em. Boil 'em all," he said, his face going crimson.
His words struck Catrin like a physical blow. Though she understood his reasons for saying them, they stung and shamed her. She longed to tell him the truth, to tell him his sons most likely lived as citizens of the Godfist. Would he even believe her if she told him? Tortured by the sight of his tears, she could take it no longer. "Do you trust me?" she asked, and he appraised her with his eyes.
"Aye, Elma. I trust you," he said, and the use of her pseudonym shamed her; he trusted her despite her deception, and she wondered if she deserved his trust.
"The words you heard today were false. The Herald did not kill all the men who did not return; she freed them. Most of them still live. Though they face a harsh winter with little food, I expect the majority will survive," she said, and she felt as if a vice had been released from her chest; the giving of truth allowed her to breathe again. Still, she knew she had just risked everything. Rolph's face was almost impossible to read as he contemplated her words, and she waited anxiously for some response.
"How do you know this? Tell me true."
"We've not been completely honest with you about our origins, I admit, but I would not deceive you about such a thing. I know these things because I was there. I saw it with my own eyes."
"So you're saying m'boys live?"
His simple question impaled her; she could not have felt his pain more keenly, and it left her rattled. "I cannot say for certain. Some men were killed during the invasion."
"I thank you for your words, Elma. You'd best get going," Rolph said as he noticed Benjin with an angry look on his face, and Catrin wasn't even certain he believed her. Acting as if nothing had happened, she and Benjin left as quickly as they could, which turned out to be faster than Catrin had expected. As soon as Rolph untied Curly, the ox charged toward town. Catrin and Benjin bounced along in the oxcart, barely able to keep themselves from flying off. The charge did not last long, though, and Curly slowed, unable to maintain the pace for a long distance. The jostling became bearable, and Catrin glanced at Benjin, who had not said a word.
"You are your father's daughter, of that there can be no doubt," he said, shaking his head.
"He was in so much pain because of the crier's lies. I couldn't let him believe his sons were all dead at my hand when they most likely live; it would've been too cruel."
Benjin didn't harass her any further about it, and they rode in silence for a while, heading on a westerly course.
"Do you think we should make for Adderhold?" she asked, if for no other reason than to break the uncomfortable silence.
"I suppose we haven't much choice. There's little chance of us getting anywhere near the statue while it's being transported, though I'm not sure we have any chance of getting near it when it arrives at Adderhold either. We'd have to pass through lands held by your family and those held by their rivals, the Kytes. A more dangerous path I cannot imagine. Do you know what you will do when we get there?"
"I have no idea, but I must try. It would be cowardly of me to turn my back on these people. The people of the Greatland would pay the greatest price for the Zjhon's folly, and I cannot allow that to happen. I just hope we're right about the true nature of the statue. I can find no way to prove our beliefs or disprove the beliefs of the Zjhon. I suppose I'll have to act on faith alone."
"Blind faith," Benjin said.
"Blind faith, indeed," Catrin said. She hoped some other solution or some bit of proof that would allow her to believe more firmly would present itself, but none came.
Following a narrow cart path, they passed local farmers on their way. Folks waved as they passed, and they returned the waves, trying to appear as if they belonged there. Benjin urged Curly to pick up the pace. Curly would have none of it, though, and set his own pace, despite Benjin's clucks, chirps, and more than a few smacks on the rear with the lines.
As night fell, they entered more heavily settled lands, and the lights of a distant town shone on the horizon. Reflections of the lights could be seen in the wide river that lay on the far side of town. A copse of oak and elm stood on a nearby hill, and Benjin steered Curly toward it as best he could. Curly resisted his direction, and they nearly rode past the trees, but Benjin managed to get him stopped. At the bottom of the hill, Benjin handed Catrin the lines and climbed from the cart. After retrieving an ear of corn, he lured Curly into the trees.
Curly chewed noisily on the corn while Benjin tied him off to a tree. Once Curly was unhooked and taken care of, they set up a small camp and ate sparingly from their provisions. They lit no fire, for fear of drawing attention to themselves, and they spent a long night huddled together for warmth.